The ongoing evolution of 4wrdthnkndad and his blog.

Do you hear what I hear?

This morning J quickly pushed the screen door open and came to a sudden stop on the back deck. At first, he seemed to be listening to the birds and then he went to sit down on one of the kid size folding chairs with paintings of frogs dancing on it. Next, I heard his Woody Wood pecker laugh. My wife peeked through the blinds to see what he was laughing at. “He’s figured out a way to make a farting sound by going up and down on the froggy chair,” my wife said through her own laughter. Not one to be outdone, Ry raced past us, the screen door slammed and he proceeded to move up and down on the frog to replicate the sound. They both laughed. It reminded me of another discovery Ry made at his Hot Shots Sports class.

The Skokie Park district locker room has lockers, showers, and an old urinal that appears loosely held together with yellowing caulk. One day, Ry flushed it, only to learn that it made a peculiar sound. It began like most urinals do with a gurgling rushhhh of water sound, but then , after a momentary delay; it released a tuba like burp. Ry started laughing and saying, “the urinal is farting!!” and then needed to engage both J and me. Of course, J then needed to repeat the sound, rushhhhhhhhhtubaburppppppp. We have now listened to that sound every Thursday afternoon for the past 16 weeks.

Having been a boy, I know that this is only the beginning of their voyage into bathroom humor. I warned my wife that this will continue at least another twenty years. They’ve already discovered whoopee cushions, making sounds with their cheeks, arms, and straining themselves to stretch out multiple farts. I know all too well the laughter that awaits them.

I can remember being in the renovated bathrooms at the historic Monadnock building and laughing with a colleague as the air in the pipes made it appear as though someone was playing the bongos in the stall. We referred to this as the “ghost of the dead bongo player.” We were both college educated 23 year olds at the time. Additionally, I’ll never forget washing my hands in the same bathroom as the toothless elevator operator dressed in his green suit and cap came out of the stall, grinning , chewing, and elaborating on how good his lunch was. Despite being perplexed by his lack of shame, it took me a moment to realize he was in the stall to eat his lunch not dispose of it. If the bathroom was a restaurant, he would have asked for a “table for one.”